


Witchcraft

by orphan_account



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, General mindfuckery, Horror, Self-Harm, Tactile Hallucinations, Voodoo doll, Written in one night, amy is dangerously stupid in this, i promise the formatting looked much better in 12 point ibm font, stylistic abuse of lowercase letters, technically I guess, we stan cd amy ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-18 19:01:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21281687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: i honestly just had to get this out of my system





	Witchcraft

it was a crude vessel. small and rugged and made of rags, but it was all she needed.

she took a deep breath, tracing the powder of brambles and burnt fur over the doll’s chest, christening it with her essence.

she felt it almost immediately.  
every bit of pressure against it gave the feeling of being touched.

a firm poke to the stomach. she’d thought, perhaps, that it would be visible, “Real”, in a sense.  
but though she certainly could feel it, her belly showed no sign of being touched.

the enchantment, it seemed, was based entirely in perception. the feelings no more real than those felt in a dream.

Well, she thought, I’ll have to test this.

the hoglet reached for her pocketknife, pawing at the switch.

cutting the fabric was an easy task. it lacked resistance, lacked a moment for instinct to reject the action.

the sting was immediate. Intense. but survivable. she winced, looking to her arm. it was pristine, untouched, though the painful gash was still all too real to her senses.

a bit of wuffling was all it took for curiosity to overtake the pain. once again, she took the blade in her paw, roughly hacking off the damaged limb.

Too much.  
it was far, far too much.

She shrieked, curling taut into a defensive ball. The arm was numb, and her quills outstretched.

she could hardly breathe, hardly form a coherent thought. She had to destroy it.

she reached for the matchbox, scarcely able to uncurl her body at all.  
she was shaking, shaking as she struck it, and lit the doll ablaze.

She was burning. Burning. she could feel it. Her skin peeling back and curling into broad holes

it felt like forever.

However, like all flames, and like all lives, it soon faded.

she opened her eyes, heart still racing, to face a pile of ash.

It was over.

she pushed herself off the ground, still shaken, unsteady, and sighed.

“The art of witchcraft is much too Dangerous for a small beast like me.”

**Author's Note:**

> don't you hate when the monopoly man says he smells money and you have to explain to him it's actually the cocaine you shoved up your ass


End file.
